Countdown to Extinction
by Ihsan997
Summary: In the far future of Azeroth, the sentinels struggle to preserve Winterspring's native frost sabers. When more of the rare cats begin disappearing, though, they must call for outside assistance to crack the case. Set a few centuries after current in-game events; very AU. 4 chapters
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: hello, readers! Welcome to volume four of seven in a thread I like to call the Saga of Sharimara. Like all other stories in the series, you DO NOT need to read my other stories in order to understand this one. All context is given in the narrative itself and the paragraph below. Of course, I would like it if you read my other stories too, but I won't force you to do so.**

**This story takes place in the year 203 on the Warcraft timeline - for reference, the WoD expansion was in the year 31. This is Azeroth nearly two centuries in the future, where the events of the current games are just blips in the history books. Factions matter little, politics have obviously changed but it's still the Warcaft world. Enjoy!**

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The autumn sun was an odd feature of Winterspring. In such a cold region, the sun could still beat down harshly when it wanted to, and often at odd times in the day. While high noon was considered the warmest part of the day in many localities, the sun before dusk in that day felt particularly annoying in its heat. And in what was considered the territory of the Sentinels, the brightness of the sun didn't carry the positive connotation it did in other cultures.

Decked out in full armor, the two figures descended from their frost sabres and approached the huntress lodge that marked the only sign of intelligent life in the flat, open fields of snow. To say they were a little odd would have been accurate; from afar they could blend in, but up close there were a few deviations from the norm. One of them wore the medium armor typical of night elven sentries, forest green hair whipping in the wind. Unlike most night elven sentries, however, this individual also had a forest green beard, signifying him as the rare male sentry in a matriarchal society.

His larger companion was even more odd. Wearing the cape and plate armor of a Kaldorei warden, the woman bore the face of an elf and the ears and build of a troll; the long indigo ponytail lied somewhere in between. As the two new acquaintances walked, the man talked about the situation that was unfolding at the lodge.

"We really can't thank you enough for taking the time to come out here, Warden Hearthglen," he said with about as much nervousness as could be detected in the voice of a professional soldier. "Just be ready for the locals...they rarely come here, what with the big distances between each grove and all, but the news reporter keeps getting them whipped up about the loss of a national icon."

A common feature on the highways in Sentinel territory, the huntress lodge bore the familiar purple and blue hues typical of most proper night elven structures. Of course, quite a few of their people still preferred to live in trees, but those who didn't tended to dwell in structures boasting much less aesthetic variety than those of other peoples. Even in the midst of the pure white fields, there was a sense of familiarity with at least half of the warden's family heritage. A dugout covered by a naturally grown awning of tree roots marked the spot where the sabres could seek shelter from minor snowstorms (they'd be brought inside the lodge itself alongside their elven riders during major weather phenomena) and was occupied by at least a dozen of the dozing creatures. At the sound of a familiar sentry approaching, none of them stirred, knowing they didn't need to spring to the location's defense.

The lodge itself was quite large, though that wasn't surprising. Unlike the other regions under the flag of the Sentinels, Winterspring was mostly flat and open, and only a few provinces bore the cover and protection provided by forests. The sparsely placed huntress lodges on the highways were rather well fortified as a result, and both mobile and embedded glaive throwers lied unhidden and strategically placed around the three story lodge.

Before the two figures even reached the front steps, the warden could already see the journalist that the green haired sentry had warned her about.

Thin and short by the standards of Kaldorei men, the bookworm wearing a faction tabard sat in a bench in front of the lodge flipped through a notepad he'd obviously been using to record all of his observations. Obviously quite young by their standards, he appeared very serious about his work as he jotted down notes so fast that he almost dropped his pencil a few times. Once the two armor clad travelers reached the stairs, the commotion they could already hear from inside the lodge was drowned out by the sound of the journalist leaping to his feet, tripping and falling to his knees, and stumbling over it them before even wiping the snow off of his pants.

"Throrandil Willoweep of the Darnassus Moon," the rather presumptuous journalist said in a rush while flipping his press pass at them. Without even checking to see if either person was even interested in talking to him at all, the man began walking beside them and flipping through his notes. "Are you the bounty huntress they flew in here in order to track down the culprit in the frostsabre culls?"

The male sentry quite literally shoved Thorandil in the chest and knocked him down the stairs and into the snow again. The warden, for her part, didn't mind. "Last warning, Willoweep. The restraining order put on you still prevents you even from sitting on our bench, technically. Don't make me bring the priestess."

Just before the warden entered the tarp behind the sentry, she could hear the very annoying man shouting his defiance from a spot in the snow where he'd gotten stuck. "Go ahead, bring the priestess! The people have a right to know, and I have the right to investigate for them!"

Inside, the bottom floor of the lodge was typical for such structures, only larger than those in more heavily forested areas. It was essentially a large meeting hall and reception area, with the wings to the side and the upper floors left for various other purposes. A handful of huntresses and archers already appeared to have woken up despite the early hour - being nocturnal, few night elves enjoyed being awake before the moon had risen. Sleepy eyed and disinterested, they mostly either lingered around the administrative desk or the passageway leading out to the back veranda, lining either side of a crowd of huddled locals.

At least two druids stood among them, likely restoration druids judging by their robes. They were most often responsible for the growing of food since the faction had managed to avoid involvement in the last few major military conflicts; they'd certainly have their work cut out for them in a region as inhospitable as Winterspring. Surrounding them were normal civilians wearing the rough furs of harvesters, those responsible for gathering the rapid growing crops and cooking or otherwise preparing them for their neighbors. The group was about a dozen in total, and by the standards of elves they all appeared rather upset. On at least one occasion, one of the archers had to ask an irate local woman to back up from the one person everyone was trying to speak to.

"I'm very sorry, but I've delivered all the news that we have available to us at this current time," the obvious priestess announced, her silver eyes glowing even more powerfully than usual for their people. "And as much as I do enjoy hearing from our sisters and brothers, the reality is that there's nothing more to ask me that hasn't already been asked."

The woman's voice held that familiar kind firmness and firm kindness that priestesses of the moon were so well known for. The warden hadn't heard such a voice in a very long time, but she'd recognize a person of such a class anywhere. The irate local woman, a harvester sporting the rare silver hair color which could almost always be traced to Kaldorei families originally from the region, didn't seem satisfied.

"Priestess Pamaira, what does the government plan on actually doing?" the harvester asked urgently, visibly distraught and not directly angry at anyone so much as the situation. "This is a national tragedy for all children of the stars, how can we not be doing more about this?"

Laying a hand on the harvester's shoulder despite the woman's flaring nostrils, the priestess named Pamaira lowered her voice, causing the entire group to lean closer lest they miss a significant piece of information. "My sister, please understand," Pamaira said quietly in the face of a bad attitude, "that all of us feel the same. We at this lodge were charged by High Priestess Silverglade with the protection of these icons; their survival constitutes our entire life here." Pamaira paused for effect, and it seemed to succeed given the harvester's drooping ears. "Nobody cares about them as much as we do. Nobody on this planet. What we ask so that we may perform our jobs is your patience and understanding, so that we can focus on the task at hand."

Guilty due to her outburst, the harvester looked down and backed up to join her fellow villagers. "May Elune reward you, big sister," the woman mumbled.

Standing off to the side, the warden watched Pamaira and felt a measure of respect for the strange employer. Had the priestess wanted, she could have flipped the spotlight onto the newcomer in order to dodge dealing with the upset locals. That she chose not to do so was admirable, and the warden didn't make haste in nudging the male sentry to announce her presence.

"Ah...ishnu alah, Priestess Pamaira," the man mumbled in order to gain the attention of the leader of the lodge.

The group parted in order to allow Pamaira to face the two newcomers directly. Her relived smile spoke of a very subtle exhaustion that had just been wiped away and she motioned for the two of them to approach. "Has our guest arrived?" she asked rhetorically.

"Yes, priestess. This is Warden Sharimara Hearthglen, the individual who responded to the bounty we posted."

Murmurs broke out among the crowd of nearly a dozen locals. Most of them looked even more relieved than the priestess, while a few still appeared skeptical. The priestess nodded to Sharimara while beckoning the male sentry. "Nethel, please show our sisters and brothers in Elune to the canteen so that we may share a good meal; I need to have a moment with our guest out on the veranda," the priestess said while also ushering a few of the huntresses to help herd the local people away.

"Of course, priestess," the male replied as he and three huntresses escorted the harvesters and druids toward a different wing of the lodge.

Once they were a good distance away, the Pamaira turned to face the warden again, relaxing a bit as she clasped her hands and inspected the large woman's armor. Long ago, the woman wearing the gear of the wardens specific to the night elven people had been in touch with her roots. A life of hiring herself out to the highest bidder as Sharimara chased down Azeroth's worst villains and criminals had taken her far away, and it had been at least a century since she'd been in touch with those roots. In this case, they were the roots of her late mother's race, which she was ironically weaker in despite her profession. Her Darnassian was not as fluent as her Common, and despite the religious aphorisms peppering her speech, the last time she'd visited a temple had been more than a century prior.

Regardless, she still respected the traditions that she wasn't upholding as well as she should a great deal. Not wanting a priestess from the Sisterhood of Elune to be reduced to reaching forward and burdening herself to initiate the introduction, Sharimara stepped forward and ensured that she bowed lower than Pamaira, even attempting to kiss the woman's hand.

"That won't be necessary," Pamaira chortled while resisting the show of ritual reverence. "You are not from my flock, here; our relationship is that of one equal ensliting the help of another."

Smiling at that familiar humility in the Sisterhood, Sharimara felt a calmness that her doubt and misgivings had led her to believe was just a fantasy. "I don't accept that," she replied, much to Pamaira's amusement. "But I will not argue. And judging by the wording of the quest bulletin I found, I take it that there is no time to argue anyway."

Pamaira's smile didn't fade, but it lost a bit of its starlight. "Unfortunately true...walk with me, Warden Hearthglen." The two of them walked out onto the chilly veranda at the back end of the lodge, the furthest part from the highway. Pamaira hugged her heavy cotton cloak more tightly as they made their way across the spacious covered area toward the railing at the edge, just barely covered beneath the awning. "Please, take a look."

As far as the eye could see, the area beyond the highway, the lodge and the few amenities such as the hippogriff roost was draped in white. Not a blade of grass could be seen, and since the area was ostensibly a province of rolling hills and flat plains, there were virtually no trees. Just over the horizon, Sharimara could see the mountains, not simply capped in snow but completely covered in it to the point where not even a single space of the rock beneath was visible.

"It's gorgeous," Sharimara breathed as she tried to take in her surroundings.

"This land is sacred; frostsabres are only collected from the breeding populations here. We do not breed them in captivity, as opposed to the case of nightsabres. Though I'm sure you already know that..."

Sharimara hummed in her throat affirmatively. "True, but all I know of this crisis aside from what I read on the quest bulletin board are rumors. I would rather here the official story."

Getting right down to business, Pamaira inhaled deeply and launched directly into the summary of what Sharimara had - roughly - already heard.

"Each population of frostsabres is unique; unlike nightsabres, we don't crossbreed them or allow them to mate while in active duty. This works out numerically; nightsabres are used by huntresses, archers and the rest of the rank and file; frostsabres are reserved for my class, which obviously means we need much less of them. Nightsabres breed like rabbits but the demand is quite a bit higher. And...well, I'm sure you know the math already."

"That part, yes, I'm aware of."

"Good, good. So the frostsabres are drawn from local breeding populations; in order to ensure optimal health and genealogy, we monitor their numbers closely and keep the different subspecies separated. Each local area tends to its own subspecies, and the entire system has functioned as such for ten thousand years. Much like the condition of our society in the immediate decades after immortality ended, the frostsabre population is fragile."

"And therein lies the problem, yes?"

Pamaira lowered her head, frowning resentfully as she gripped her staff just a little more tightly. "Our subspecies here had a stable breeding population of over two thousand. In the past few years, the slayings have caused that number to drop by nearly half. As always, our leaders were slow to act due to beliefs about caution; by the time they did send an inspector here, they declared that if the population drops below five hundred, they'll declare the subspecies doomed and..." She closed her eyes, overcome with more emotion than was usually considered befitting the stoic priestesses that led Sentinel society. "...they will rescind protection under the assumption that extinction is inevitable."

Despite her disconnection from her roots, Sharimara felt that anger as well. The frostsabres were magnificent creatures, and as Nethel had said, a national icon for the Kaldorei. "What are the leads?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Pamaira relaxed somewhat, but continued gazing out across the snowy plains. "Very little. No tracks, no scent; just claw marks. But frostsabres do not attack each other naturally, and I have detected no traces of magic corruption nor rabies on the victims. The slayings occur all over, and never as part of a spree." Pamaira turned to face the warden, stepping away from the railing. "Our ranger, Xeres, can tell you much more; I have no more information to offer, which is part of what makes this so frustrating. Come; I'll mark the position of her post on your map. We can lend you a hippogriff which knows the location; it's only two hours by flight."

"That would help quite a bit," Sharimara said as she started to follow after the priestess.

Before returning to the interior of the lodge, however, she looked out over the snowy fields one last times. Miles and miles of whiteness spread out before her, every square inch of it indistinguishable from every other. There were no roads or settlements, and an outlaw camp would have been noticed by the routine flights of the Sentinel Air Force by then. The case of the slow decimation of the frostsabre subspecies was truly a mystery, and one that would require Sharimara to switch from her usual work busting up crime rings in urban settings to scouring the wilds.

She blew a raspberry through her pursed lips before following Pamaira inside. "This one is going to take a while," she murmured to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

If there was one perk that Sharimara had received as a part of this specific quest, it was the thick fur coat that Pamaira had foisted upon her. Although she had spent plenty of time in cold regions during her roughly one hundred and seventy years of life, she'd never flown through such weather. All of her travels across areas of snow had been via ground mount save her second visit to Winterspring (this quest being only the third). And that didn't count, as she'd flown across the ocean from Azshara to the Port of Winterspring; the ocean water moderated the cove city's climate and spared her the extreme temperatures.

Even when it wasn't actually winter, flying in Winterspring was difficult. The air which therefore had been still became rough when her purple plumed hippogriff dove into the updrafts, carrying her through the biting breeze. That wind battered the cloak as well as her helmet, and Sharimara's feet - which had remained exposed outside of the cloak - were quite chilled despite being encased in plate boots and leather socks beneath.

By the time she saw the ranger outpost naturally grown on the top of a four story high tree, she'd almost reached the point where she wanted to land just to avoid the wind for a while. The ride had felt like more than two hours, and seeing as how the moon had only just risen yet she'd already been traveling for so long, she did feel that a good rest was in order despite the urgency of the mission.

As if expecting her already, the single ranger who had been stationed at the outpost as waiting on one of the thick, intentionally overgrown branches at the top of the treehouse and flagging down the hippogriff. Another one was already nested among the branches toward the very top, and it scooted over slightly as if anticipating the landing of Sharimara's temporary flying mount. Following the directions perfectly, the purple plumed mount required no direction from the warden herself as it landed next to its counterpart among the branches.

The moment that Sharimara dismounted and began to slide down the branches toward the hole in the top of the tree's trunk, the ranger who was apparently Xeres leapt over to her, every bit the stereotype of the devoted yet lonely night elf sentinel who had been posted in a remote area by herself for a little too long.

"Ishnu alah, my sister! Welcome!" Xeres practically sang as she bowed respectfully. Her armor was standard issue for Winterspring - the usual strategically placed plate but with additional cloth coverings for warmth - but her light blue hair signaled that she was at least descended from another region, if not born outside. "Are you the bounty huntress our community has hired?"

Straddling the branches to return the bow, Sharimara tried to remain respectful while also balancing. She hadn't dwelled inside the naturally grown, hollowed out trees that were standard fare in northern Kalimdor for a very long time and worried about slipping. "Ishnu dal dieb, and yes, Priestess Pamaira sent me here to assist with the investigation into the frostsabre murders. Perhaps we could descend into the treehouse itself to discuss."

Silver eyes flickered as if the thought hadn't even crossed the woman's mind. "What? Yes, of course, you must be tired - they told me your last job was in Desolace and that you flew here on short notice! Please come, there's time to slip out of your armor for a bit, and I had some tea ready."

Raising an eyebrow at the young ranger and her borderline unprofessional level of casualness, Sharimara nevertheless relented and accepted the invitation. "That would be preferable, yes; judging by the rate at which the crisis has escalated, I don't think it would be dereliction of duty to rest for a bit," she replied while following Xeres down the spiral ramp in the middle of the hollow trunk. "Besides, I'll need to be brought up to speed on everything that you know."

Down inside, the treehouse was narrow but made efficient use of space and was very, very warm. The top level was less so, and appeared to be Xeres' personal armory; the next level down was the bunk, where three unused hammocks hung next to that of the lonely ranger. After leaving Sharimara alone for a few minutes, Xeres emerged from the bottom level with two cups of warm tea and sat down.

"Alright, I'm going to ask what leads you might have regarding the current situation," Sharimara said at the beginning. "Priestess Pamaira informed me of as much as she could, but didn't know about any sort of patterns to the slayings or any such details."

"Well, it seems that you're mostly up to speed then, Shari," Xeres replied, using the warden's nickname without even asking permission. Her informal demeanor bothered Sharimara professionally and the warden began to worry about whether or not her temporary partner could be relied upon. "Really, I haven't been able to notice anything consistent except for the fact that the victims are all frostsabres, and that they appear to have been killed by other frostsabres."

"How often to the slayings-" Sharimara's question was cut off when Xeres took a long slurp of the tea. "How often do the slayings occur?"

"Also inconsistent. Sometimes days pass; sometimes weeks. And they tend to occur in very different locations each time." Xeres paused to watch Sharimara hunch forward to consider the situation, a curious look on her face. "You're really like...a bounty huntress, right? Like, you hunt bounties all over the world?"

Sharimara looked up from her tea and noticed the curious look Xeres was giving her. She was about to ask the age of the ranger but stopped herself, feeling it too casual. As powerful as the sense of irony was, she felt it enough to assume that Xeres couldn't be more than a few decades old and to extend the youngblood a good amount of patience until the quest had finished.

"Yes, Xeres, I'm a bounty huntress. And for that reason, it's imperative that I get to the bottom of this case as soon as possible - I'll need to see the sites of the latest slayings as soon as we finish our tea."

Disappointment swept across Xeres' face like a wave, but the woman quickly recovered. "Yes, I guess you're right...atually, there's something interesting there. One of the frostsabres was killed only half a day ago. I haven't even had time to report it yet and the remains are still fresh."

Gulping her tea like a shot glass, Sharimara balanced the wooden cup in the net of the hammock she'd chosen to sit on and ignored Xeres' awestruck expression at such a simple action. "Then lead the way. And I'd prefer to take frostsabres of our own rather than the hippogriffs, if possible."

Fortunately, Xeres didn't waste much more time leading Sharimara down. Despite her chatiness, the woman did seem to understand her duties well, in addition to the broad history of her faction. Probably more so than Sharimara actually, considering how long she'd been drifting from city to city across all the continents of the world, living out of inns and capturing or killing countless fiends. If anything, accepting a job in traditional Kaldorei lands almost felt like a foreign country, and Sharimara tried counting the number of decades that had passed since she'd been in contact with her siblings, neices and nephews. How far she had fallen since her parents, to whom she was the closest, had passed on...

Time passed quickly once they were actually on the job, and riding on sabreback felt faster than flying by hippogriff despite the fact that the winged creatures were actually about five times as fast when riding a good thermal. There wasn't much to take in when it came to their surroundings; that specific province was mostly flat with a few mountains, and the two feet of solid, stable snow caused everything to look the same. Sharimara's sense of direction kept them on task, and soon enough she'd even helped Xeres locate the wooded area where the latest victim was.

"Here she is," Xeres lamented in a voice that was too soft for a ranger who lived alone in a remote outpost. "A female, too...losing them endangers the population much more than losing a male."

Dismounting and waiting to listen to their surroundings for a moment before approaching the body, Sharimara took note that the corpse had been killed outside the small wood of about two dozen trees before having been dragged in. The trail of blood signaled that the body had almost immediately been pulled, as if the killer had been concerned with hiding their crime.

Sharimara knelt down to get a better look. The animal sported the traditional white coat with black stripes, and appeared to be of older age. From shoulder to shoulder, a single clean cut had been made, causing death by both blood loss and asphyxiation. The cut wasn't deep enough to have been a knife; upon pulling the wound open with her thumb and index finger, the warden was surprised to find that it was the obvious work of a sabre's claw. Yet only one claw had been used rather than all four...it was as if another frostsabre had intentionally used only a single finger. That there were no other wounds implied that the beautiful creature had either been killed in its sleep, or without a fight. There was no blood on its own claws or fangs, so either way, it hadn't been granted the opportunity to fight back.

Xeres knelt down as well and pretended to inspect the body at first. "So I bet you're half troll, huh?" the ranger irreverently asked. When Sharimara didn't answer, Xeres appeared sheepish and contrite. "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to imply that being biracial would affect your prowess as a-"

"Quiet," Sharimara hissed while reaching to the side and clamping a hand over Xeres' mouth. She tried to remove it a second later, but Xeres actually tried to whisper to her and she just kept her hand in place lest the ranger wear the warden's patience when it could be avoided.

Long, batlike ears twitching, Sharimara moved her eyes without moving her head. A family of three forstsabres crossed the plain directly in front of her position, ambling so slowly that a nearby herd of elk didn't even bother running. An egret sang as it flew overhead, followed by a few doves but otherwise there were no sounds out of the ordinary.

Except for a single frostsabre who had been curled up inside of a fallen log just beyond the edge of the wood, not even fifty feet away.

The animal rose and began to shamble away in the other direction, shaking snow from its fur and walking straight into the empty plains and in the direction of a few active hot springs among rock formations to the northeast. Xeres reached up and held on to Sharimara's hand as if requesting permission to remove it, but the warden waited just a few more seconds before leaping into action.

"Heel!" she commanded the frostsabre she'd ridden out there, leaping onto the mount's back the moment it had risen to all four of its legs. Almost immediately, the sabre that had been hiding in a lot nearby increased its pace.

Xeres watched her speeding away at first, hesitaing before ascending her own mount. "Shari, where are we going?" she asked in confusion.

"Follow!" Sharimara shouted without looking back, instead spurring her mount to chase after the lone frostsabre, which had already broken into a sprint.

Not to be outdone, she kicked her heels against her own sabre's ribs until it gradually increased to full speed. The fleeing frostsabre's ears shot straight back as if it were in a wind tunnel, and the hair stood straight up on its back. It's running became frantic but uneven and zig zagging much like a prey animal, and totally unlike the straight route of escape a predator would take. Clearly distressed, the fleeing animal even slipped and slid on the snow as if it was losing its dexterity.

Xeres eventually caught up and met Sharimara shoulder to shoulder, shooting her a perplexed and disapproving look. "Shari, we're upsetting the sabre! Respecting their need for space and desire to roam is paramount to keeping them mentally healthy and ready to oh my goddess where did you go?"

A warden's magic was somewhat unique among that favoried by most other night elves. Most members of her class possessed green eyes rather than silver or amber, but the color was not due to fel corruption or arcane influence. Their magic was drawn from the power of the stars just as that of priestesses such as Pamaira; the difference was intent. Channeling that same power, Sharimara casted her blink spell, teleporting a good twenty yards ahead of Xeres. In one instant, she went from the back of her own mount to the back of the fleeing frostsabre, which was noticeably smaller than all the others. She'd used the spell enough times to know exactly how to land and how to brace herself after literally transporting herself across space without consumption of time, and her landing was seamless.

"Mrrroowww!" the fleeing sabre cried as it found itself slammed into the ground by the weight of a havily armored giantess that planted herself on its back out of nowhere. Before the cat could even try to mount a defense, Sharimara had already reached forward to grab it by one ear and hold her double bladed fel glaive against its neck.

"Shari, what are you doing!" Xeres called out as she dove off her own mount and slid on her knees beside the struggling pair. "What is IT doing?"

Before Xeres could ask any more questions, green swirls filled the air as the decidedly un-predatorial frostsabre curled into a ball and cowered away from the warden on its back. Within seconds, the frostsabre had been replaced by the relatively small form of a fur clad druidess, the beaten woman raising her hands up in defeat when the glaive pressed right against her jugular vein.

"I yield! I yield!" the druidess cried, panicking like a youngblood who had never seen real combat before.

"Your consent isn't required for that," Sharimara snarled while tightening her grip on the woman's ear.

"Aaiiieee!"

Xeres knelt next to them, dumbstruck as she focused on the crafty warden more than the pinned druidess. "How...how could you detect her?"

Focusing on the scared woman beneath her, Sharimara loosened her grip without removing the glaive from its place next to the woman's artery. "The way any good old fashioned detective does. The killing was obviously done with a sabre's claw, but by an intelligent, sentient being. A being who would drag her victim into a clearing. A being who would hang back to watch your actions once you found the crime scene."

Sharimara bent down, tugging on the woman's ear and digging her elbow into the woman's shoulder.

"Ooowwww!"

She held her armored face just a few inches away from that of the druidess. "A being who can't possibly be cunning or ruthless enough to have pulled this off by herself," she snarled.

Weak defiance flashed in the pinned woman's eyes. They were a strange yellow color, like the transition from silver to amber of a person who was born without druidic talent and had only learned the class through hard work. "You can't stop the will of the goddess!" the woman hissed.

Anger flashed across Xeres' features. "Murdering a national icon is the work of the goddess? Are you insane?" she asked incredulously.

In a flash, Sharimara had stood up and yanked on the woman's ear, dragging her up to her knees like a limp ragdoll. "No, not insane...brainwashed," she said in a dismissive, condescending tone that she worked the best she could. The young woman flinched, and false rage pricked at the skin on the sides of her nose. Sharimara noticed immediately, and realized that her attempt to psyche the woman out had struck a nerve. "Oh...you didn't like that?" she asked in the most passive aggressive voice possible. "Does it bother you when people realize that you let someone else control you?"

She'd seen it a few times before. Her targets were varied over the past century, and she'd been sent after many a cultist and fundamentalist preferring all the different varieties of belief. And Sharimara recognized the difference between a true believer, and an outcast youth who'd joined a movement to compensate for poor social skills. She saw it in the way the druidess recited her line about the goddess in a forced monotone voice to sound noble. She saw it in the way the druidess' nose had scrunched up in fake anger when the muscles in her forehead, temples and cheeks remained relaxed and unstrained.

She saw it in the way the druidess recoiled when she was accused of simply being brainwashed. And the moment the youth did that, it was over.

"My work is the work that will allow nature to properly run its course in a world of-"

Sharimara interrupted the woman's speech by laughing so mockingly that even a thousand year old restoration druid would have been tempted to punch her. "Ha! Your work! Your master has obviously trained you well," she snickered, ensuring to be as rude and demeaning as possible even though the latter quality, at least, was anathema to her personality.

Pursing her lips in real frustration this time, the druidess let her shoulders slump without realizing it, ruining the almost determined expression she'd mustered. "I make my own decisions," the woman muttered, though the defiance in her voice was gone.

A measure of pity worked its way into Sharimara's heart; this scene wasn't new or unique by any means, but the lack of nastiness on the fanatical youth's tone made her seem more lost than evil. Regardless, duty was duty. "How long have we been talking...less than two minutes? And you've already revealed yourself as a lost soul who's let someone else manipulate you into some sort of a cult. But come on."

"Ouch!" the druidess yelped as Sharimara yanked her toward the hot springs, which were now only about a hundred yards away.

Xeres winced at the violence toward an opponent who had yielded. Recent reforms had tightened up rules regarding the frequent problems with roughness that the sentinels often displayed with prisoners, and Sharimara's treatment of their captive was almost certainly violating some of those new rules. Not that she would go any further; she actually admired the reforms enacted and didn't intend to actually hurt the fanatic frostsabre killer. But the young woman didn't need to know that, and as Sharimara dragged that fanatical youth toward the hot springs, she steeled her nerve for the scare tactic she was about to undertake.

"You make your own decisions, do you? Let's see about that."


	3. Chapter 3

Sharimara continued to drag the young druidess by the ear, leading at least one of the culprits over toward the hot springs. The air was still cool but not as chilly as elsewhere once they walked onto the rocky ground where all the snow had melted. Small geysers of mineral water bubbled, spilling the warm (though not actually hot) water all over the sediment rich terrain and leaving it damp. Xeres kept in lock step with Sharimara, but on the opposite side from their captive, lest she imply that there was discord due to the perplexed expression she kept flashing to the warden.

Xeres didn't actually speak, however, leaving Sharimara to her thoughts. And as they walked among the springs and geysers in the middle of the open, snowy plains, her thoughts flashed rather rapidly.

Experience and intuition led a good investigation; it was the only real source of knowledge that one possessed, in Sharimara's opinion. And while busting up cults weren't her main line of work, the various quests she'd accepted over the past century occasionally required her to do so. And when she saw the way their captive behaved like a misfit who had found a cause, and displayed that zeal that a sincere and well meaning but severely uninformed recruit possessed, she knew exactly what she had on her hands.

This was a young woman, even by the standards of the shorter lived races; judging by her behavior, she couldn't be more than forth or fifty years old. Her inability to properly tell a lie or hide her reactions insinuated someone who lacked experience with the world, and perhaps a person who had never met a member of another faction. Her zeal for the garbage she'd been spoon fed insinuated that she was a person without a goal in life, either with friends who had picked classes and professions already and left her behind, or with no friends at all. Her impure eye color insinuated that she was inexperienced and perhaps had never gone druidic trials, and her lack of ability when in cat form insinuated that she was either self taught from books or had been trained for a very short time. Or poorly.

The pieces all fell into place in Sharimara's mind, and she put together a mental plan of action. No torture was to be involved; she agreed with the reforms instituted by the Sentinel faction. What's more, torture tended to lead to false information, because people would say whatever they had to in order for the torture to stop, and in a ticking time bomb situation the captive could just stall or give half true information until the time ran out; physically hurting people was simply an ineffective means of gathering intelligence. Bargaining, however, was a great tool when coupled with a bit of a reality check in the form of a verbal thrashing.

Xeres continued trying to surreptitiously gain Sharimara's attention without speaking out loud, to which the warden began speaking loudly in the Common language. "It sure will be great when we can find the leader of this poor sap and expose the falsehood of their doctrine," she surmised out loud.

"Shari, what are-"

"Shh." Cutting off Xeres' Darnassian sentence, Sharimara slowed down her pace and waited for a reaction. Insulting the doctrine of an outcast zealot who needed to cling so some sort of ideology as a crutch was a sure way to garner a reaction. As she expected, the druidess displayed no such thing. "Just as I suspected...she doesn't speak Common. Or probably any language other than Darnassian."

For a few seconds, Xeres appeared unable to comprehend the idea before she literally stopped right in front of a geyser. Though entirely a coincidence, the ground around their feet vibrated and a small, colorful burst of warm water shot up out of the ground, reaching most of the way up to her waistline. "Oohhhh...I get it," the ranger replied in Common as well. "You think she's a simpleton?"

"Not exactly...she obviously knows a bit of magic," Sharimara replied before switching back to Darnassian for a moment. "Kneel," she ordered while kicking the back of the captive druidess' knee lightly.

"We - I am performing Elune's work!" the druidess whined as she fell. For a second she almost raised her hands to remove Sharimara's grip from her ear, but wisely thought against it at the last second.

"What I suspect is that this is some village girl, half a century old or less, who was duped into performing the bidding of a nut job who can't do her own dirty work. Someone like this is the perfect fall girl...and if we convince this woman of that, then she's liable to break down and rat on her boss."

Xeres looked from the captive to the geysers nervously, and then to Sharimara. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Nothing illegal," the warden replied in Common one last time before dropping to one knee in front of the druidess. Being half troll as Xeres had correctly guessed, Sharimara was quite a bit larger than both of them and used that to her advantage as she squeezed the druidess' ear and pulled the woman close, looming over her. "Come here," she then practically growled in Darnassian.

For a good few seconds, she inspected the woman's features to see if there was anything about the environment in particular that she reacted to - the sounds of the geysers, the colors of the mineral water - but found the young woman trying very hard to steel her own nerves. She was certainly perturbed and out of her element, but everything seemed to put her off balance equally. This would require less intimidation and more simple bullying.

"So let me guess...you've never been outside of northern Kalimdor before, right?" she asked the druidess.

"Kalimdor is the home of the...Kaldorei!" the captive replied with a fake show of force, wavering as she failed to think of a sufficiently strong response.

"Good, so they at least taught you geography in whatever low class neighborhood you came from. Next question: how many members of your weird little cult are there?"

"What?! I am under no obligation to answer questions from the likes of you!"

"And yet you didn't even bother interrupting me; you sat obediently while I finished asking, like a perfectly trained dog. I'm guessing there aren't that many of you, and your group is focused on a single charismatic leader. A slightly older woman but not too old, and one who uses a lot of terms you don't understand." Sharimara waited for a moment as the druidess' jaw dropped open and then quickly shut self consciously. "Yeah. I'll take that as a confirmation."

Distressed more than afraid, the druidess shook her head furiously. "I'm not saying anything! Not our numbers, not my name-"

"I didn't ask you name and I don't care. Nobody cares. That's why you joined the cult - thanks for admitting that you lied earlier about working on your own, by the way - and that's why you ran away from society. I've seen it plenty of times, sweetie; you're not unique, am I have a feeling that your cult leader doesn't do much to improve that beyond simply building you up as a good little member of her flock."

Finally the captive fanatic's long brows furrowed in anger, though is was somewhat akin to the anger of a dying sabre that knew it had met its end. To look away would have been too strong a sign of weakness, and so the woman tried to return Sharimara's hard stare, causing herself to eventually shrink when she realized she couldn't pull it off as well.

"You don't know anything about me," the druidess huffed.

"Oh, but I do, little snowflake. I know that you can't speak any other languages, and that you probably never traveled. You're uncoordinated so you're brand new to shifting and probably can't even heal yourself, and your cult leader can't train you to do so properly and thus blames your lack of dedication to her cause. Ring any bells?"

The woman's nostrils flared, but a measure of hurt worked its way into her gradually blushing features in addition to the anger. "No," she mumbled.

"You're also a terrible liar, so I'm guessing you came from a village and haven't ever lived in a real city. Grew up around the same people, most of whom either made fun of you or simply pretended that you didn't exist."

"That's not true!"

"Oh come on, it is true and we both know it, but unlike a normal adult you've failed to move on from it until now. So when you found someone who was a bit more mature and preached against a society that you felt left you on the outside, you were enthralled; and when that person displayed a modicum of interest in you as an individual, you were so moved that you almost cried." This time when Sharimara loomed over the druidess, the woman just let her ears droop even more, too depressed to even muster more false defiance. "Am I getting warmer?"

At first, the druidess just stared, looking humiliated and exposed after only a few minutes of mind games. Whoever had manipulated her had assumed they hit the jackpot in finding someone so easily influenced, but that was a double edged sword; Sharimara saw that demonstrated right before her when the druidess reverted to what was almost childlike behavior.

"No..." the woman sighed, all the fight gone from her.

Loosening her grip, Sharimara leaned back to give the woman some space and allowed her own features to soften. The change in demeanor was so obvious that most mature adults would notice the cheap trick. But in the case of the easily manipulated flunkie of some rural cult bent on culling an animal that was supposed to be sacred to them, the switch from bad cop to good cop in one individual raised no eyebrows.

"Listen, sweetie, because here's what's going to happen now. You're young, and you seem smart, though terribly naive. Me and the ranger here are going to take you in, and we have enough probable cause based on your behavior to not only try you for murdering that frostsabre back in the woods there, but also to pin quite a few other slayings on you. You're going to serve your time in a tree of woe back in Teldrassil since this is a federal crime, where all the other ladies locked up with you will know that you're the one who led to the thinning out of an entire subspecies of our national animal."

"I will endure," the druidess mumbled, though her voice was so weak that she would have appeared less afraid had she simply remained silent.

"Right, endure it for the cause, blah blah blah. So anyway, you're just going to be a failure to your own cause since we can still reverse the damage you've done to the population, you admitted that you have accomplices, and you revealed to us that you're all shifting into cat form in order to conceal your identities; because of you, we know exactly how to track down your buddies and your whole operation is finished. Assuming the women you get locked up with don't stab you to death in the prison bathhouse, you'll get to wake up every day knowing that you are the reason why your cult got caught."

Sharimara made an effort to boop the young woman on the nose to emphasize the word you, trying to keep as much pressure on the druidess as possible. "Or...you could choose the only alternative you have," she added ominously, staring at the woman hard.

No longer able to even attempt a staring contest, the druidess met the warden's eyes again and gulped. "Wh-what kind of alternative?" she asked quietly, almost too embarrassed to ask out loud.

"Now you're asking the right question," Sharimara replied, doing her best to emphasize that the druidess was the one in need of help, and was not actually needed herself. "No matter what you do, we will take you to jail; there is no avoiding that. But if you fess up and tell us who took advantage of you, then I'm sure the local priestess will arrange a plea bargain for you; we can probably get you into counseling, maybe a sort of work release program once you serve your time. And instead of being known as a nutjob failure who was a forgotten member of an unsuccessful cult, you can become the brave heroine who rejects the brainwashing she was subjected to and makes the right choice."

The druidess reactively shook her head at first, but the way her mouth dropped open and her eyes lit up revealed her interest. For a misfit who had little options, the allure of being recognized as a reformed former cult member who chose to do the right thing was an attractive means of readmission into society. "I...I would betray everything I believe in," the youth mumbled. Her eyes began darting around nervously, of which Sharimara took note.

"What you believe in is a cult that murders a national icon, and that will soon be broken apart, ridiculed, and destroyed. Your life will be a living hell and when you die, nobody will even pray for your soul."

"No! I..."

"Nobody will pray for you," Sharimara repeated once she smelled blood in the water at the woman's reaction. "Nobody will remember you, or this stupid group that manipulated you into running around doing their grunt work and taking all the risk upon yourself. So you'll live an even more miserable life, die an ignoble death and all for a group that obviously sees you only as a pawn who was easily tricked."

For the first time, Sharimara released the woman's ear and gripped both of her shoulders. Xeres stiffened up and gripped her bow a little more tightly, and Sharimara realized that it wasn't because of their captive. Pushing the woman a little harder, she tried to get the information out loud. "Do the right thing; you can be that renewed heroine if you choose to be. Help us put a stop to the loss of your national icon."

Tension flooded outward and Sharimara could almost feel the young woman's willpower break like glass shattered on the floor. The muscles in the druidess' shoulders went limp and she even slumped forward into a more squat, hunched over kneeling position. "I...am...Sonora," she breathed out, not near tears so much as near mental exhaustion. "I am...was...a druidess of Rinaeth," she added, unaware of Sharimara shifting into a stiff stance on her knees, ready to leap up at any second.

"Sonora...you have a lovely name. And I'm sure you will be a lovely person, once you find your way. Tell us, Sonora: who did this to you?" Sharimara asked while poking the woman in the temple, trying to pile on more pressure and redirect the woman's feelings of victimization from society at large to her leader. "Who forced you to do this?"

"I told you...Rinaeth is our mistress. It's just me and my cousin; she recruited us from our village."

Sharimara raised one of her medium length eyebrows. "So Rinaeth isn't some sort of demigoddess or demon...she's just a regular person, and your entire cult includes only three people?" she asked rather loudly. "Do you mean to tell me that this cult which this Rinaeth lady claims is upon the truth, as opposed to society, is just the three of you?"

A sad, self deprecating laugh escaped Sonora's mouth at the curious expression Sharimara was giving her. "Yes...Rinaeth had no followers before us; she was just a hermit who had been ejected from the Cenarion Circle," she sighed, giving Sharimara exactly what she wanted. "It's stupid, isn't it?"

"Traitorous bitch!"

The angry screech pierced the rumbling of the geysers, causing Sonora to jolt and flail ineffectively. Already having understood the intent, Xeres let an arrow she'd knocked on her bow fly right in between Sharimara and Sonora. A roar broke the silence before the frostsabre could even be seen, hitting the larger animal while it had still been hiding in the snow just outside the rocky area containing the hot springs. The animal limped out of the snow, dripping blood and walking more slowly but not totally incapacitated due to the fact that the wound was only in the meat of its left shoulder.

Xeres didn't have a chance to fire a second arrow; in midair, a second frostsabre shifted into elven form, the elf who had screeched the curse in the first place. The fur clad woman front kicked Xeres in the hip, knocking the young ranger to the ground hard and clearing the way toward the flailing druidess. Ignoring Sharimara entirely, the older woman that was most likely Rinaeth dove for her former follower, bellowing in rage at the betrayal.

The warden dashed forward, catching Rinaeth halfway through the woman's jump. Rinaeth was crafty enough to have noticed and tried to kick Sharimara as well, but the warden's plate armor was too thick and the fur boot thumped against it ineffectively. Swinging Rinaeth in a half circle, Sharimara tossed the raging cult leader to the side, watching her skid against the rocks the way Xeres had just in time to realize that the larger frostsabre had found the strength to pounce on her.

Had it been a nightsabre, Sharimara most likely would have remained upright, but the larger winter cat latched onto her armor and slammed her into the ground. Her double bladed fel glaive fell out of her hands just after she'd wielded it, and she felt the weight of an animal typically used to carry people her size pressed into her. The obviously shifted druid tried to go for the killing blow only for her to elbow it in the face and shove her bracer in its mouth. It clamped down, dragging her away and thrashing her arm around enough have dislocated her elbow had she not let her arm go limp. Bracing the back of its neck with her free hand, she ignored the bashing swipes the animal took at her helmet and pulled herself close enough to wrap ler legs around its torso. One she was latched on herself, she grabbed the arrow and twisted.

Another loud roar pierced the air as the frostsabre released her arm. Bruised from the power of its swiped but not cut or afflicted by fractures, she wrapped her other arm around the back of its neck and squeezed her legs together tight, rolling the frostsabre into a wrestling hold and twisting its entire body onto its side. Without proper leverage due its position on its injured shoulder, the animal was unable to resist when she shoved its furry head into one of the steaming hot geysers.

"Yaargh!" the frostsabre cried halfway through its accidental shift back into elven form due to the searing pain.

A blue skinned night elf male was left in the wake of the green swirls of druidic magic, half of his face burned and raw from the heat of the steam. In that form, he was physically smaller than the half troll warden and Sharimara pinned him down easily. Before she could properly restrain him, however, he reached up with his free hand and punched her in the thigh with his claw gauntlet.

"Aaaahh!" she hissed as he hit the exact spot in between the two plates covering each side of her thigh, wedging the blades of his gauntlet into the soft flesh in between.

"Hurk!" the man gurgled as Xeres, with precision defying her young age, shot him directly through the neck with an arrow despite being rather bruised up herself.

Not wasting any time, Sharimara leapt off of the dying man and spun around in search for Sonora. Just beyond the hot springs, the young woman had run off, stumbling through the snow as she fled from a mostly recovered if scuffed up Rinaeth.

"Elune take you for your disgrace!" Rinaeth screeched as she tackled Sonora from behind, slamming her shoulder into the younger woman's lower back.

"Help me!" Sonora screamed as she hit the snow stomach first.

Sharimara sprinted after them, feeling a measure of pity for Sonora as she tried to preserve the lives of as many witnesses to the crimes as possible; the loss of the druid behind her was already damaging to their case, plus Sonora did seem like a redeemable young fool. Pinned beneath Rinaeth, Sonora simply tried to crawl away and it was apparent that the leader of the three person cult had left the poor youth untrained on purpose. It was a pathetic sight to behold, and Sonora looked absolutely helpess as she flailed to the point of creating an unintentional snow angel on the ground.

Crafty like a true criminal, Rinaeth twisted around as she sat on the small of Sonora's back, catching Sharimara's eyes and giving the sort of scowl that would even make a warden back off. Pumping her fist, the older druidess sprung the claws out of her gauntlet and held them over the back of Sonora's head. "One more step and she gets it!"

"What a caring leader you are, so ready to slaughter your little lamb!" Sharimara sneered, though she did take a step back while trying to mentally estimate the exact trajectory at which she would have to throw her glaive in order to avoid actually killing either of the two people down in the snow.

Rinaeth's eyes narrowed hatefully. "Ready to exact revenge for the goddess upon those who reject her favor!" the cult leader spat, though there was a certain lack of passion in the words compared to the eyes that led Sharimara to think it was simply a personal vendetta.

There was no time to ask; Xeres barely even moved a muscle as she sent another arrow flying, having knocked and then fired the projectile in less than one second. It hit its mark just when Rinaeth noticed the subtle movement out of the corner of her eye, by then unable to actually do anything about it.

The arrow tore through her forearm, narrowly missing a major artery and passing through to the other side with such speed that the arrow continued flying until it hit her hip. Ripping right into the woman's white fur armor, it created an audible cracking sound when it embedded its tip in her pelvis.

Howling in pain, Rinaeth toppeled into the snow, writing and ineffectively swatting the snow next to her with her free hand despite being able to see nothing but the sky. After two seconds Sharimara was on top of her, removing the claw gauntlet forcibly and tearing a piece off of the woman's own fur armor to gag her with. Sonora remained lying on her stomach, panting into the snow in what could almost be described as relief as her ordeal with the abusive cult leader was over.

Recovered from the rough front kick she'd taken to her abdomen, Xeres limped at first and then walked normally over to the dead male druid's body, kicking it just to be sure he hadn't pulled through. When Sharimara finished roughly yanking the arrow out of Rinaeth's arm and tearing up most of the woman's fur armor to bandage and then properly restrain her, Xeres let out a little laugh.

The warden looked to the ranger curiously, not even paying attention as she shoved more ripped up fur into Rinaeth's mouth to shut the frothing woman up.

"You were able to discern all of that just from Sonora admitting that she didn't act alone?" Xeres asked curiously.

Standing on one knee as she drove her palm into Rinaeth's gagged mouth just to make a point, Sharimara saw the humor and smirked. "Well, that and a few other tells...but mostly that. And a bit of experience." She looked back out over the snowy plains, doing the math regarding the number of mounts they had at their disposal and how long it would take to transport two bound captives across what would usually be a two hour flight. "I'll explain how that sort of deduction is done on our trip back to the lodge...and we probably shouldn't delay our departure."


	4. Chapter 4

Returning to the lodge was quite the chore. Flying out to the ranger outpost by herself had taken Sharimara a good two hours via hippogriff; the distance seemed considerable when taking into account the fact that there was not a single road, signpost or inhabited area in between. Thus, the trip back was rather tiresome.

After gagging Rinaeth and hog tying her due to her refusal to just shut up, Sharimara and Xeres decided to just wrap her in a sleeping bag and tie her to the top of a frostsabre like a sack of potatoes. Sonora, despite knowing that she was going to jail, was entirely cooperative and even accepting of her fate. In return, Sharimara bound and tied Sonora's wrists and elbows in front of her instead of behind her, giving her the freedom to direct the frostsabre she was bound to (they still tied a rope between the young woman's belt and the sabre's collar) during the trip home. With Sharimara and Xeres both riding one of the two hippogriffs and the ranger outpost sealed from intruders, the trip back to the lodge took almost four hours. All things considered, it still wasn't a particularly difficult journey - just tiresome.

Although it would have been more so had they not stuck Rinaeth inside a sleeping bag, so that was a plus.

By the time they arrived to the far side of the lodge, more than half the night was through; considering the fact that Sharimara had departed just before dusk, it was a very short ordeal, and the sentinels who spotted the victorious group (with the exception of Nethel, the only man among them) started ululating as the party of four reached the lodge grounds.

Xeres almost blushed, waving to her elated shield sisters with both hands, though Sharimara only gave a congenial nod as three archers intercepted them by the side entrance of the lodge. "We have returned!" Xeres beamed while dismounting, "and we come bearing gifts!"

Two of the archers sling Rinaeth between them, grabbing on to what appeared to be her ankles and her head beneath the canvas sleeping bag. "The priestess will be thrilled; we'll actually need to intrude on her meditation session for this," one of the two archers said while they carried Rinaeth inside.

Wanting to spare Sonora any further embarrassment considering the young woman's cooperation, Sharimara helped the woman dismount herself and merely held on to one of her arms, rather than restraining her or dragging her in as most of the sentinels were more likely to do. Even after the reforms enacted, the Sentinels as a whole were still rough in dealing with criminals. Although Sonora was most definitely a criminal, a voice in the back of the warden's mind told her that the formerly brainwashed young woman didn't deserve the same treatment as the cult leader.

"I have her, sisters; she won't try to escape," Sharimara assured the last archer, who initially had moved to grab Sonora's other arm.

The archer cocked an eyebrow, but yielded and allowed the two other women to enter the lodge without a fuss. "See to it," she told Sharimara politely but firmly.

Moving forward and leaving all four mounts with the archer and the flight mistress, Xeres stood on the other side of their captive as they walked through the covered wooden tunnel that formed a concealed access entrance on the side of the lodge. "So just from this girl's facial expressions and religious jargon, you were able to decipher her demeanor, lack of life experience and that she must have had accomplices out there in the plains with her?" the ranger asked in Common, trying to recap the long conversation they'd tried to share during the long trek from the outpost.

"Roughly. I've dealt with cults before so that helped, but this was mainly deduction. Given enough experience, and you eventually learn what to read in people when you're trying to browbeat or bully them."

Xeres let out one more laugh as the two of them entered the main hall of the lodge. "You're awesome," she chortled in Darnassian.

Far beyond the point of blushing from simple flattery, Sharimara nonetheless felt uneasy. "Oh, don't say that. There is no shortage of bounty huntresses found in Kaldorei lands, most of them more skilled than me. I just responded to the quest offering first."

Muffled curses caught their attention, pulling all three pairs of eyes toward the pathetic sight in the middle of the hall. Free of the sleeping bag after the sentinels on duty had dumped her on the floor, Rinaeth had degenerated into a sputtering mess. Because her wrists and elbows were both tied together behind her back, she almost couldn't push herself to a kneeling position but eventually found a way. Sharimara had actually wrapped a line of fur all the way around the woman's head to gag her, ripping up most of her fur jacket in the process. There was no danger of losing the perpetrator since the sleeping bag had kept her warm, and it had been for a good cause: Rinaeth was insufferably spiteful, and while the fanatic wasn't foul mouthed to the extreme, she was still unpleasant to listen to.

Nodding to her colleagues, Xeres stood apart from their spot in the center of the hall, remaining to the side and blocking Sonora from view. Sharimara could actually feel the young woman tremble slightly, and while she didn't quite feel the desire to shelter the young woman from facing the law (she had still murdered numerous innocent sabres), she did feel a measure of pity for a villager who just seemed to have lost her way.

After a few moments of murmurs from those gathered in the hall and more muffled growls from the cult leader, Pamaira descended from the ramp that lead to the upper floors, followed by Nethel. Everyone save Rinaeth stood up straight out of respect, and after inspecting the scene for a few moments, the priestess beckoned Xeres toward her. The two engaged in a hushed conversation for a few minutes, likely discussing the details of what had happened before any public statements were made. The priestess beckoned Nethel as well, and after a few more minutes sent him outside and Xeres back over toward Sharimara and Sonora.

Everybody stood quietly as the did the priestess, waiting for her cue to talk. A few more minutes passed before Nethel returned with Thorandil, the journalist from Darnassus.

"Priestess Pamaira, the people have the right to know if these are the people who ACK!"

His questioning was considered direct to the point of rudeness when addressing a priestess, and none of Nethel's colleagues stopped him when he yanked Thorandil by the collar of the man's jacket and dragged him back toward the far wall. "Your still under a restraining order; we're bending the rules for you, so don't make us change our minds," he ordered the smaller man.

Meek defiance rose up and then died out across the journalist's face. "But I...the people! News report...okay," he mumbled before whipping out his notepad and resigning himself to silently producing a written report.

Once Pamaira was satisfied that the creeping news reporter had been shut down, she nodded and began. "Ranger Xeres has explained the situation to me; these are our two captives, while the third perished during the process of arrest. For our public statements, I'd like to start with our captive to my left - the one who is standing." When Sonora tried to hide behind Xeres again, Pamaira more bluntly pointed at the young woman. "Yes, you. Step forward, please."

Sharimara released Sonora's arm, but patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. A few of the sentinels glared at the warden for the sign of comfort, but Sharimara didn't care; her goal was encouraging the young woman to speak freely and nothing more.

"What is your name?" Pamaira asked as the druidess wrung her hands in front of her.

She didn't look up at first. "Sonora Lightfeather," she replied shyly but in a loud enough voice.

Pamaira continued to give the young woman a stern look, but held her tone of voice even. "Ranger Xeres claims that you're ready to explain to us what's been going on out here."

"Yes...I will explain everything." Sonora took a deep breath and a moment to collect herself. "My cousin and I wanted to be druids, but we were busy harvesting and had no time to train. Rinaeth here found my cousin and convinced him that she would train him, and me as well, but we'd have to go live with her in the wild because night elven society lost its way."

Rinaeth growled through her gag, earing a shove to the back of her head by one of the sentinels. "Quiet, you," the woman ordered.

"She taught us how to shift, and how to survive outside of towns. She also told us that the local subspecies of frostsabre was doomed and we needed to do nature's work by pushing them toward extinction."

Tension mounted in the room, though the priestess paused and made eye contact with a few of her sentinels to calm them before she continued. "And so you murdered these frostsabres based on what this person told you?" Pamaira asked.

Sonora nodded, too crestfallen to look up. "I'm sorry, but yes...me and my cousin did what she told us to do. We believed her because she seemed to sure of everything. My cousin worried that it was all a sham, but I...I didn't listen to him-"

The mention of her cousin enraged Rinaeth so much that the fanatic forgot that her ankles and knees were also tied together. Springing up like a fish in a boiling pot, Rinaeth tried to pounce in Sonora's general direction but flopped on the floor instead, earning snickers from the sentinels who had to prop her up again.

"Don't do that," Pamaira warned Rinaeth before promptly ignoring the woman again. She turned back to Sonora. "Young Lightfeather, do you understand why we must arrest you and send you to the provincial capitol for sentencing?"

"Yes, yes I do," Sonora answered with more confidence, "and I know I deserve it. I want to be tried and sentenced...I want to answer for what I did." Like before, Sonora didn't cry or even appear close to the verge, but her tone of voice became a bit emotional as she spoke. "I want to show you where the other slayings occurred, and help close the case as much as I can. I want the community to know that I understand why our actions were evil, and that I don't want to be that person anymore. I...I want to become better."

Though Pamaira didn't smile or appear any less stern, the deep breath she took implied that she believed the young woman's plea and perhaps even accepted the admission of wanting to reform. "What you've participated in was a terrible deed, but...you honor your family via your honest confession and desire to improve. We do not handle sentencing here, but if the head priestess in the capitol agrees with me that you're sincere - and I think you are - then I'll give a written recommendation that you be released one day if you can demonstrably work toward the reversal of the damage you've done via your time and labor. That would be under the watch of our sentries, of course."

"Oh, thank you, thank you," Sonora practically gasped. "I'm so sorry, I swear to Elune with you all as my witnesses, I'm so sorry. It was wrong and I want to help make things right, whether I end up released or not."

Though nobody softened up toward the young druidess, the tension died down and a few of the sentinels even nodded at Sonora approvingly. Pamaira took a step forward and looked down her nose at Rinaeth. "Rinaeth...Rinaeth...I vaguely remember a Rinaeth Darkblossom who was rejected by the Sisterhood training temple at the capitol, then failed her druidic trials, then forced us to lock her up for a few years for peddling fraudulent herbs." The priestess raised one long eyebrow curiously, and a sort of familiarity passed between the two of them. "Ring a bell?"

Pure hatred burned in Rinaeth's eyes as she gazed up at Pamaira. The priestess waved a finger for one of the huntresses to remove the gag, only for the most vile, obscene invective to flow from the supposed religious leader's mouth. Hisses and shouts rang out until Rinaeth was gagged again, and Pamaira almost looked pleased rather than offended.

"Okay, you had your chance to give your own statement before we ship you off to the capitol; consider that rescinded. Whatever you might have believed about what you were doing, it is not for any mortal being to speak on behalf of nature, or to make decisions for it." Pamaira stepped back and swept her arms across the room, indicating everybody there. "We're all the products of nature as well as its defenders; to think for one second that we can speak for it is simply beyond arrogance. I declare this case closed, and order you to spend the rest of the night and day down in the dungeon. You can stew in your cell until we can secure a wagon for your transport to the capitol early tomorrow evening."

Pamaira then turned toward Sonora. "Since you've cooperated with us so far, I'll allow you to sleep inside a room upstairs. You'll still be sealed inside, and if you give our cartographer the run around when she asks you to pinpoint the location of undiscovered slayings, I'll cast you down into the dungeon as well. If not, you'll at least sleep in a normal room until you're shipped off for sentencing tomorrow."

"I promise...I will confess to everything," Sonora signed. "Every one of those animals we killed deserves to be prayed for and remembered."

Nodding to a group of sentinels to escort each captive away, Pamaira then turned to the others. "Warden Hearthglen, I'd like to meet with you upstairs in about ten minutes to discuss your compensation and the transportation we'll provide for your trip to a destination of your choice. I trust that you'll be sleeping the day here with us, as well."

"Affirmative."

"Xeres, I'll need you to meet the ladies at the barracks in the east wing and arrange coverage for your outpost since we'll need you for the scouting of the murder sites during the next few days."

"All too easy."

"Nethel, please escort the news reporter off the lodge grounds; there's nothing more to see here."

Thorandil began waving his press pass around as if it was a magical card. "But Priestess, I only have thirty four more questions to ask!" he protested as Nethel dragged him out the front entrance. "The people are losing a national icon!"

Nobody paid the annoying self appointed voice of the people any mind, and after a few moments the meeting hall had cleared out. Sharimara gave Pamaira the brief wave in confirmation that they'd meet shortly, and found herself alone as she flexed the forearm that had been chomped on by the now dead male druid. A bruise had already formed, and she'd likely be in more pain tomorrow from the force with which she'd been dragged across the rocks-

"I can help massage that," Xeres said from the side exit Sharimara had been standing next to.

Finally noticing the ranger, Sharimara walked over toward her. In a line of work like hers, she frequently got to know partners on the job for a short period of time before bidding them farewell. Saying goodbye had become easier over the years, but there was always a sense of melancholy after a job well done.

"You seem to have a lot on your plate now. But if you're not busy later, I might take you up on it."

Leaning against the wall of the exit, Xeres looked past Sharimara toward the empty hall briefly. "I'm sure I can make the time. It gets awfully lonely at my lonesome little outpost, so I can always make the time for...special friendship."

_Okay, that's a little weird_, Sharimara thought to herself. "Yes, well, it's been great working with you, too. It's a shame we won't be able to bust any more baddies soon."

A very intense gaze burned at her, fizzling out due to her frigid confusion but not losing its heat. Xeres narrowed her eyes, tilting her head and tossing her hair back elegantly. "You seem to be a tigress who wanders the path less traveled," she said in a voice that sounded heavier than usual. The glow of her eyes dimmed as she leaned in, drawing nearer to her temporary partner in justice.

Sharimara's eyes grew as wide as saucers when she realized that Xeres was leaning in for a kiss. "Uh...Xeres-"

"Shh. No words," the ranger whispered without even opening her eyes. She puckered up her lips and leaned dangerously close, causing the warden to take a step back.

"Xeres...I'm not into other women," Sharimara replied almost apologetically. "I'm sorry if I gave you that impression, but...look, I don't have a problem with it, but-"

Xeres' eyes snapped open, and a look of mild hurt flashed across her face. Her eyes narrowed again as if she's been slapped, and she pulled away. "But...but...you sent me so many signals when we were alone in my outpost!" she protested. "I don't understand!"

As much as Sharimara really didn't want to make out with another woman, she did feel sorry for the sincerely offended ranger. Trying to speak as delicately as she could, she explained her behavior by blaming herself. "Well, look...I'm not very well spoken, and my social skills are a bit rusty. So I might have acted a little too friendly, but that's all I intended it as. I'm sorry if I gave you a different image; I didn't mean to lead you on or anything like that."

Pursing her lips and folding her arms like a scolded child, Xeres looked downcast and sad. "It's okay...I'm used to it. Nobody ever cares to pay attention to the dutiful ranger who spends all her time by her lonesome-"

"Come on Xeres, don't be like that. I do care to pay attention to you-"

"No no, it's okay. You don't have to worry about my feelings or anything. Good work on catching those cultists, right?" Resolutely embarrassed but obviously fishing for a pity kiss, Xeres turned away and leaned against the wall but didn't actually walk away. "Oh," she sighed in an exaggeratedly depressed manner.

Guilt itched as Sharimara despite the fact that this was not something she'd ever wanted to do. "Damnit," she mumbled in Zandali before switching back to Darnassian. "Okay, look...I guess...technically, I don't have any reason not to."

Suppressed hope flashed in the fox like woman's eyes. "Not to what?" she asked, pretending that she didn't already know.

"You know what. Come on, just come. I guess I'll try anything once."

Reaching forward, Sharimara pulled Xeres close to her and tried to steel her nerve. Though not an ounce of arousal pricked at her, Xeres seemed rather happy when they pressed their lips together. Although Sharimara never judged, the act was one that wasn't particularly enjoyable for her. She wasn't the type who slept around, and after a certain incident many long years before she'd fallen out of the dating scene, but she'd been with enough men to know what she liked and didn't like. And even when Xeres aggressively slipped her hands beneath Sharimara's armor like her ex-husbands had in the past, the act just wasn't doing it for her.

"Mmmmfff um Xeres fmmmf," she mumbled while trying to breathe. "Xeres it's been at least ten seconds, this is more than a pity kiss mmfmfm."

Breaking off only at the last second (and because Sharimara literally pushed her away), Xeres looked practically intoxicated as she slumped against the wall. Though her eyes almost lulled into the back of her head, her speech was at least semi lucid. "Nothing for you? Nothing at all?" she asked, only halfway concerned.

Licking her lips and honestly considering it, Sharimara found it much easier to answer once she'd tried it for the first time in her century and a half of life. "I'm sorry, Xeres. I'm sure that you'll meet another lonely ranger and make each other very happy one day."

Blinking and looking less sad and more resigned, Xeres straightened up against the wall she was leaning on. "Well...thanks. So you're all about the sausages I guess, huh?"

"The...what?" Sharimara asked, taking a few seconds to get the joke. "No, I...ha ha. There's really one sausage I was waiting for, and that sausage ended up on Outland just as the efforts to stabalize that planet were ramping up. After that, I just married my job."

Stretching her arm out and cupping Sharimara's chin in a gentle way that was supremely awkward for the warden, Xeres looked less sultry and more collegial. "Aww...Outland has been sealed from all people entering or exiting for over thirty years."

Feeling an old pain, Sharimara just stiffened her lip and tilted her chin away. "I know," she muttered, trying to shove the old memories back down inside again.

Pushing the envelope one last time by running her finger across the warden's cheek and lower lip without asking permission, Xeres then stepped backward toward the tunnel that led to the barracks. "Well...if you ever decide that the Dark Portal really is closed for good...you know where to find me when you change your mind."

_Not happening_, Sharimara thought to herself. "Okay...uh, I'll think about that," she said out loud.

Neither of them lingered, though Xeres kept watching her as she walked back up the ramp into the lodge and toward the upper floors where Priestess Pamaira was waiting. Slightly awkward but at least knowing she left another temporary colleague on a positive note, Sharimara pushed more than one set of memories out of her mind.

As weird as the night had been, perhaps the description of a person (not a tigress) who wandered the path less traveled was accurate. And as Sharimara walked up the ramp toward the third floor, she finally had a few moments alone to wonder where that path would lead. There was a time when she was a true believer in the claim of not all wanderers being lost. Now...she wasn't so sure.

There would be precious little time to reflect, though. Soon enough the day would be done, and she'd hopefully be on a hippogriff flying toward the Stonetalon Mountains, and toward yet another group of villains she'd been called to track down. That would make two separate crime rings in a week...possibly three if she could wrap it up fast enough. For there was no shortage of work for the bounty huntress, even after the wars of old had come to an end. For the time being, at least, genuflection would have to wait.

**A/N: thank you so much for reading my little tale of what manipulation and zealotry can do to well meaning people. I hope it entertained; this story truly was very fun to write.**

**For those wondering about Outland, and what happened to it...these are all plot elements I use to pepper my vision of Warcraft's future with a bit of flavor. And for those wondering about Centrius...well, we need to wait a bit before "Reconnection" is posted.**

**That's because the next story, "Entropy," is one of the most important demonstrations I've written of who Sharimara is as a person. Patience pays...the story was written years ago, and I should have the first chapter posted next week. For those who don't plan on continuing, I thank you for reading this story regardless and wish you all the best.**


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